


What Happens At Night

by Bookofmirth (ABookAndACoffee), illyrianrhys



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Challenge Response, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 08:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14132250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABookAndACoffee/pseuds/Bookofmirth, https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyrianrhys/pseuds/illyrianrhys
Summary: Feyre just wants to relax, but her neighbor Rhysand keeps showing up at inopportune times.*This fanfic is part of a challenge - see notes for more info.





	What Happens At Night

In the city of Velaris, you could get away with a lot, as long as you never got caught. Feyre Archeron knew that better than anyone, and the fact kept her afloat when life seemed determined to knock her down a peg or two. 

During the day, Feyre kept shop at a small art store. It didn’t pay much, but it took care of the bills. She and her family had recently moved to Velaris from their small cabin in the middle of nowhere, trying to make a go of it in a new city. It was the dream, after all, to come to a place like this and prosper. If only Feyre wasn’t the only one of them putting effort into it. 

At night, however, Feyre found time for herself. After she came home from work and made dinner and cleaned the house and took care of every other need that her sisters still failed to recognize, she had another life. She didn’t share it with anyone, and prowling the streets and alleys of Velaris was only part of it. 

One particular evening, as was her habit, she was strolling the cobblestone streets. Looking for what, she was never sure. Trouble, or just a bit of fun. Either might have been acceptable, if it meant she didn’t need to be at home, listening to her sisters complain and watching the chips of wood fall to the floor as her father carved those figures. 

She didn’t want to begrudge her father his hobby. Truly. She wished she could find it in her heart to accept the way that he viewed life passively, from the sidelines. But then, when it meant that Feyre and her sisters had to scrape by, working by the hour and sometimes finding profit in the alleys and disreputable corners of Velaris, she wasn’t inclined to forgive. 

And on top of that, Feyre was always the one to sweep the mess of wood chips up every morning. Clearly, her house was not quite a home. The townhouse was large enough for all of them, technically, but it still wasn’t exactly what she imagined life would be. 

Feyre hummed quietly as she walked, her hands clasped behind her back. She was just loud enough to seem casual, but not so much that she was making a nuisance of herself. It was the fifth time that week she had “gone out” for the evening, yelling behind herself for Elain and Nesta to finish cleaning up after dinner, since she had already done the work of earning money for the meal, buying the ingredients, and preparing it. It was more like escaping her house rather than going out. But it was a necessary escape. 

There were fewer fae on the streets than usual, which was probably due to the recent increase in those who had gone missing. She wasn’t bothered by the solitude, although it was a bit eerie. 

Weeks ago, Feyre had come out and run into someone new - literally. She’d turned from her door after locking it and run straight into the solid back of one Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. She’d heard stories about him. Good, mostly. Everyone in Velaris just loved him so much, his dimples and the way he protected them, the sparkling stars of his Court and his dedication to the arts. 

But not Feyre. No, Feyre wasn’t sure why everyone was so crazy about him. She’d heard so many stories about the infamous High Lord that she wasn’t going to be bothered trying to trust him. She had enough to worry about already. 

Besides, Feyre knew a thing or two about Rhysand, facts that he had managed to keep well-hidden. After all these years, she should have been impressed at his ability to hide the truth from his own citizens. However, she was mostly annoyed. This was her neighbor, and he was definitely intruding on her nighttime relaxation, not to mention interrupting her sleep with the weird sounds coming from his house in the middle of the night. 

And yet… in the weeks since she had met Rhysand, she’d thought of little else. That smirk on his face, the cheekbones that seemed designed to drive her insane. And his eyes. His Cauldron-damned eyes that seemed to look right through her, to the parts she’d rather no one knew about. He could have at least given her the courtesy of a warning before he caught her in his gaze. 

Truth was, Feyre would have known his face anywhere. Not only was he the High Lord and her neighbor, but he also owned the shop she worked at. So day and night, apparently, Feyre was going to run into him. 

Feyre was going to find neither fun nor trouble that evening. Or so she thought. She left her usual haunts and headed for home, picking up her pace when she realized that the night sky was gradually gaining color from the rising sun. Nesta and Elain wouldn’t worry about her, but they would complain if she woke them, so she stopped humming as she approached her front door. 

A figure that managed to cast a shadow - impressive, in that light - appeared at her left as she slid her key into the lock. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Feyre exclaimed. She dropped her key and bent to pick it up from the street. 

“Something the matter?” Rhysand was there, leaning against the frame of his own door, mere feet away from her. Apparently, he was also returning home from a late night of doing… whatever it was that High Lords did. 

“What are you doing out here?” Feyre spoke in a whisper that somehow sounded angry. He’d surprised her, and she didn’t like being caught off-guard. 

“I live here.” He shrugged. 

“No, I mean at this time of day. Or night. Whatever.” She slid her key out of the doorknob and into her pocket once she’d unlocked the door. 

“I could ask you the same thing. Neighbor.” Rhysand grinned, and Feyre knew it would be etched into her memory. 

She clenched her teeth, giving herself a moment before she spoke. “I don’t have to tell you. And by the way, my name is Feyre. Not Neighbor.” 

“Of course. Apologies, Feyre.” 

It was the first time he had said her name. She’d never heard anyone say it quite that way before. 

“So,” he continued, “Am I going to meet the others who live here any time soon? I’d have thought my new neighbors would have come knocking on my door by now.” 

“No, sorry.” Feyre frowned, deciding to explain further. She had a feeling that if she didn’t, he might force the issue. “It’s just that my father isn’t well, and my sisters are usually… occupied.” 

Rhys tilted his head and locked his eyes on hers. Shit. There it was. That look she couldn’t stop thinking about, when all she wanted was to be left alone. Eyes violet and twinkling, a knowing smirk, but there at the bottom of it all… kindness. Understanding. No wonder everyone in Velaris was in love with the guy. Surely, Feyre thought, the look he was giving her was nothing special. Just another trick in his arsenal. 

“So, what were you doing out here?” she asked. Anything to get his attention off of her. To keep him from asking what she had been up to. 

Rhysand shifted. “High Lord stuff.” 

Feyre laughed, then clamped her hand over her mouth. She cleared her throat. “Is that what it’s called? Officially? High Lord stuff?” 

“Of course not. But I have a feeling you don’t really want to know what I’m up to, Feyre.” It wasn’t quite a threat, but perhaps a warning. 

“Why not?” 

“Don’t you know what they say about me in the Spring Court? Or the Autumn Court?” Rhysand approached her, standing so close that Feyre had to tilt her head to look him in the face. 

“Yeah, they say you’re a jerk. Can’t say they’re wrong.” 

Rhysand chuckled. “There might be some truth to what they say.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but shut it and turned to his own door, sliding a key in the lock. 

“I thought you wanted me and my family to come over.” Feyre crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

“It’s the neighborly thing to do, isn’t it?” 

Feyre sighed. “Yes. But I’m not a normal neighbor.” 

“Neither am I.” Rhysand unlocked his door. “But the invitation is open. If you ever need a place to get away… It may not be far, but at least you won’t have to listen to your sisters squabbling. Or watch your dad carving those little figures he makes.” 

“How did you know about that?” Feyre asked, brows furrowed. 

Rhys tapped his ear. “High Lord powers. And stuff.” He smiled. “You take care of yourself, Feyre.” He opened the door and went inside before she had a chance to respond. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a challenge in which Sian (@illyrianrhys) and Leslie (@bookofmirth) each have two different tropes that we have to write at the same time, in one fic. We are starting off with no idea what trope the other has chosen, and will try to respond to the other person's chapter within a week. Leslie is starting this off and will have the odd-numbered chapters. It could get weird?


End file.
